Leave
by Nerdanel
Summary: The estrangement and eventual separation of Nerdanel and Feanor. Featuring Maglor, Maedhros, Fingolfin and Aredhel. Revised and Completed.
1. Author's Note

Author's Notes:  
  
I have decided to re-post this story since it was one of the first I wrote and I wanted to make a few small changes to it. Also, I noticed several typos and mistakes in it, which I have hopefully not corrected.  
  
This is the tale of the estrangement of Nerdanel and Feanor. I have read many wonderful stories about them meeting and other things, but I have not found many (although there are a few good ones out there) about the more unhappy years of their marriage.  
  
I have tried my best not to make this too suspenseful or angsty but I am afraid I haven't done terribly well. I also have tried to make Feanor relatively sane (considering the situation). Please let me know what you think, and thank you very much to the people who already reviewed!  
  
Guide to Quenya Names:  
  
Feanaro = Feanor  
  
Makalaurë = Maglor  
  
Maitimo = Maedhros  
  
Nolofinwë = Fingolfin  
  
Írissë = Aredhel  
  
Tyelkormo = Celegorm  
  
Findekáno = Fingon  
  
Disclaimer: All the characters, places and the original conception of this story belong to Tolkien. I am merely borrowing them and make no profit from this.  
  
Enjoy, and remember to R&R. And if you enjoy this, please read my story 'I am back' which is somewhat of a follow-up to this, featuring Celebrimbor. 


	2. Grief

Nerdanel lay, knees held close to her chest to comfort herself. She was alone, and the only person to ease her loneliness, her pain, and her sorrow was herself. She could not speak of it with her friends. She had no close friends, because she had given all her time and her love to her sons, and to Fëanáro. She would not seek comfort from her sons, she did not wish to lay her sorrow upon them. Pride kept her from telling her parents. When she was young, and not yet as wise as she now had become, her parents had warned her. They had told her that he would only dim her flame. She had not heeded them. She was foolish. Now, she knew better. She had become Nerdanel the Wise, but her wisdom was to no avail. She had followed the flame, and now she could not live with out him.  
  
Him. How she hated him. Once she had loved him, she had delighted in the warmth of his fire, always craving more. But the flame had blinded her. She did not see that warmth would become heat, and heat would burn, at last growing to a fire so large and powerful that it would feed off the fires of others. So many times she had tried to cool that fire, only to see it rise in wrath, even stronger than before. How she wished she could only turn her tears into to a river to drown that fire, and put it out. Put him out of her life forever.  
  
But that she could not do. She loved him. She had been blind, and blind she was still. She still hungered for the fire, thinking that perhaps she might rekindle her fire with the heat of his. And for a while she would burn anew, delighting in the heat. But fire turns to ashes, and she would find that the fire had been only trickery, and had burned a part of her soul, which would blow away like dust, and a part of her would be lost forever. Each time he had tempted her with fire, and she had submitted, unable to resist what she had now become addicted to. The only way to keep herself alive.  
  
Did she really want to live? Often she wished she could flee her body forever. But she knew now that even that would not cure her. For she had lost not only strength of body, but the strength of her spirit also. Every last ember, every memory of fire that there was had been drained from her, and she was turned to ice. She lived always on the brink of sleep. No. Not sleep. Something far more permanent: death. She could not go on. She could not go on.  
  
Startled from her thought she felt suddenly the presence of someone else. She did not have to look to see who it was. She felt his presence, like a fire that burns all in its path, until at last they are cornered, with no way to escape but through fire. She wanted to leap up and run, run from him, to the ends of the world. But she was so weary that she could manage only;  
  
"Leave." Her voice quavered, like a small child daunted by their father. Only then did she realize she was crying.  
  
"Leave? Is this not my house?" He sounded confused, as he always did when she turned him away.  
  
How could he be so blind! Couldn't he see what he was doing to her? She wanted to cry out. How she hated him! But she only began to cry uncontrollably. To shed tears hurt her wearied soul. He came up beside her to comfort her. She wanted to fall into his arms, to feel comfort, if only for a little while. But she would not. Not this time. She would not give in. She would cling to every last bit of life that was in her and she would go on. She would survive.  
  
Tearing away from him with strength she thought she never had, she spoke distantly, words that surprised even herself, "Leave, Fëanáro. You cannot take more from me. When you are away, I only wish you were here. But when you are here I cannot bear it. You have taken all I had. Will your burning soul never be at rest? Must you devour my soul, as you did your mother'?" She knew at once she should not of said that. She could feel him tense as soon as she mentioned his mother.  
  
"I did not kill my mother, Nerdanel" His voice was disturbingly toneless. But at the same time she could sense hurt, confusion, and wrath in it. Most clearly she could feel his anger. She could feel his eyes penetrating her and she longed to disappear. But her task was not complete. She had either to win this battle, or to die. She looked up, and faced him, eye to eye. Suddenly mad rage took him, and he lifted his hand and hit her to the ground. She fell, defeated, and did not rise.  
  
Fëanáro looked down at the ground. He saw his wife lying there. What had happened? What had he done? Then the horrible realization of his madness came back to him. No. It could not be. What madness had made him do it? He knew. And he knew he had done it needlessly. He realized all at once how much he had drained her. How thoughtless he had been, thinking only of himself. Not realizing how much of her energy was drained, by him and into each of their sons. He stood motionless, unable to believe what he had just done. Unable to think what he would do now. Almost unwittingly, he ran out of their bedroom and into the courtyards.  
  
The stars were shining brightly above him, but he did not see them. His head swam with emotions. Hate, love, confusion, helplessness. He felt helpless, and he realized how selfish he was to feel that way. She was the one who was helpless, and he was too afraid of what he had done to even tend to the matter.  
  
He sat down on a bench, and tried in vain to calm his spinning head, which had only moments ago been clear. He put his head into his hands, and felt an unfamiliar sting come to his eyes. He felt water flow out from his fiery soul, and tears long unshed flowed down his cheeks.  
  
Makalaurë lay uneasily in his bed. He had not fallen asleep that night. He had dreaded something awful was going to happen, and had been unable to rest. In the night he had heard a strange noise. It was as if someone was weeping, and then he had heard the thud of something hitting the ground. Now it was completely silent. Too silent. Not a single noise went through the house. He decided he would go and tell his mother of his discomfort. She would understand. He was glad his Father was in Tirion, and he would not have to face him. Fëanáro had been very short-tempered lately, and had snapped harsh words back at him every time he tried to speak. He had even tried to hit Maitimo, but Maitimo had quickly backed away. Father had realized at once what he had done, and had apologized many times. Makelaurë had never seen him in such discomfort.  
  
He went quietly down the stairs and opened the door to his parent's room. He saw the unmade bed, and it was empty. He lifted up a candle that stood right outside the door. He nearly fell back in horror at what he saw. He was too mortified to even scream. He just stood by the door, unable to believe his eyes. His mother lay by the wall as though dead, bruised along her face. He ran up to her side.  
  
"Mother?" he said, stroking her bruised face. She didn't answer. Surely she could not be dead. "Nerdanel, wake up" he said. She still lay lifeless in his arms. He felt tears unbidden roll down his cheeks. He leaned closer to her. She was alive. He could feel her breath, faint and cold, against his cheek. He did not know what to do. He knew that the Quendi could not die, but mother seemed close to it. He remembered his Father telling him about Míriel. He must find help. He must find Fëanáro.  
  
He looked through all the house and could find him no where. He had woken Ambarussa when he stumbled noisily over something that lay in the hall. They had taken his precious time with curious questions. When he would not answer, they went back to bed at last, and Makalaurë made sure to lock their door. He could not let them see their Mother. He went out into the garden, but he could see no sign of Fëanáro. Perhaps he was in Tirion, and he had not heard about it. Nevertheless, he must find help so he hopped onto his horse and rode away into the night. He would go to Nolofinwë's house. Fëanáro and Nolofinwë were certainly not good friends, but surely Makalaurë's uncle would help if he could. 


	3. Worry

Fëanáro had wept in the gardens for he knew not how long. By the time he rose at last, he was utterly drained, and his mind, which had been swirling with emotions, was now empty. Completely empty. He could remember little of what had happened, save only as a blurry dream. And he saw his life, from his meeting with Nerdanel, and the birth of their children, and the love he had felt for her. The love he still felt.  
  
Only now he observed this as an outsider, and he saw how she suffered through it all, and how he had been blinded by the fire of his own soul, only thinking of himself. But still he could not understand what had caused her to begin to shun him. If she had not done that, none of this would of happened. It was her who drove him to hit her. It was her fault. And he convinced himself of this, and so at last would not humble his pride to go help her. He turned his back on their house and walked away. He knew not where.  
  
Makalaurë came at last to his uncle Nolofinwë's house. Only then did he realize how late it was. Nolofinwë would be sleeping, and he would rouse him and everyone in the house, begging that they help the wife of his half- brother whom he hated. He could not do that. He wished he had Maitimo with him, who knew Nolofinwë and his sons well, being close in friendship with Nolofinwë's son Findekáno. Makalaurë hardly knew his uncle and his cousins since his father was loath to ever speak of them, never mind visit them. But this was an important matter. Moreover, Nerdanel was friends with Nolofinwë's family. So he resolved at last to knock on the door.  
  
He walked silently up the white marble steps. The marble house shone dimly in the light of Telperion, which was now beginning to wane. He stepped up to the great doors and gently knocked. When no response came he tried again. Still, no one answered. He wanted to give up. He didn't know what he would say. Why was he afraid of his own uncle? But he had tried, and no one had answered. No, he hadn't tried, not hard enough. So he timidly pushed open the door, which was never locked, and stepped quietly inside. He realized then that he had left his house in his night-clothes! Well, it would have to do now. He stepped down the large, dark, empty hall.  
  
After only a few steps, he was surprised to see light coming from the dining room straight ahead of him. He walked towards it, and was aware of two figures at the table, speaking with hushed voices. He approached them cautiously, but they seemed completely oblivious of his presence, absorbed in their own talk. Makalaurë recognized them. It was Nolofinwë and his daughter Írissë. Makalaurë knew Írissë because she would often go riding with his brothers, especially his brother Tyelkormo. Írissë seemed to be telling her father something that he found to be very important. Then, Makalaurë became aware that they were talking about his mother and father.  
  
"Father, I think there is something terribly wrong. Tyelkormo has always denied it, and believed him until now. I would still believe it, if I hadn't seen Fëanáro trying to hit Maitimo. And Findekáno says that Maitimo told him his father and mother have both been acting strangely lately. There is something terribly wrong, I can feel it. You must do something!"  
  
Her voice sounded urgent. Makalaurë had noticed his parents odd behavior, and his father's short-temper, but he had thought nothing of it. But now he thought of it, and he understood Írissë's urgency. He had dismissed the unhappiness in his family, going on pretending nothing was wrong, but now he could not dismiss it. For a moment he remembered how he had seen Nerdanel, lying on the floor, and he thought of his father and their frequent arguments. No. Fëanáro would not do that. He could not do that.  
  
Makalaurë stepped forth from the shadows, making himself visible. "Uncle Nolofinwë" he said, quietly. Nolofinwë looked up, and if he was surprised at the sudden intrusion, he showed no sign of it. Írissë was a little more surprised, perhaps since she had just been talking of his family. "Makalaurë" she said, "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I need your help" he began.  
  
"Whatever it is, I will help if I can." Nolofinwë said. He had always been kind to Makalaurë and his brothers, even if he showed little kindness for their father. He had a right to dislike Fëanáro, since his brother showed him nothing but contempt for a reason Nolofinwë could not help: his mother. Makalaurë had never really understood his father's hate for his half- brothers and their children. The kind gaze of Nolofinwë set him at ease. He began his tale.  
  
"I found my mother- Nerdanel -and she was fallen on the ground, bruised along her face. I tried to wake her, and she did not seem to hear me. I then went to find my father, but I could not find him and I suspected he was still in Tirion. I did not want to worry my brothers, and so there was no where else for me to go but to you."  
  
A look of worry came over Nolofinwë, and he looked up at Makalaurë, solemnly. Then he looked at Írissë, his eyes somehow saying, "Alas that you spoke true," then he spoke aloud, saying "This is grave news indeed. Írissë stay here, and explain the news ot your brothers, should they awake before I return-"  
  
"But I want to come!" She pleaded.  
  
"No. You will stay here." The command sound eerily like Fëanáro's own voice, and Makalaurë saw the slight resemblance in the half-brothers. "Makalaurë, you will lead me back to your house, with all haste."  
  
Makalaurë grew afraid. He had never seen his uncle in such a state of uncertainty and it frightened him even more. Surely, it could not be as serious as he made it sound? Makalaurë walked out the large door, Nolofinwë following. 


	4. Understanding

Fëanáro had been wandering through the streets aimlessly for some time. He became aware that Telperion was now waning, and Laurelin was waxing. How long had been gone? Where had he gone? He looked around himself, and blinked; aware suddenly of where he was. He had walked all the way to his father's house. What had led him here? He had not been to his father's house for many years, why did he come here now? And then, as though some other voice commanded it, he walked right inside the house, not even bothering to knock.  
  
He wandered though the large palace, still unknowing of where his feet led him. He walked up the stairs, and saw his father lying in his bed. And beside him lay Indis. Just looking at her rekindled his wrath. He hated her. She, who had taken the heart of his father, tried to replace his mother. What right had she to destroy him like this? He had been wounded enough that his mother should die, but then this Vanya who is everything his mother wasn't came. And she stole his father from him. And she gave birth to four children by Finwë. What right had she? As far as Fëanáro could tell, she had none.  
  
But then he saw his father asleep, and his face was calm and he was content. Content to be wed with Indis. And then for once he saw the truth of the matter. Finwë had wanted to wed her. He had wanted to leave Míriel behind. It took both of them to make the decision. Fëanáro became suddenly angry at his father, believing now that all his misery was his fault. He never should of married again. He had no right. Fëanáro was filled with sudden hate for his father. But then he remembered Nerdanel's words when he had first heard from his father that he was going to wed Indis; "He is you father, Fëanáro, and you love him. Does his happiness mean nothing to you?" She was right. Even now her wisdom was valid. And he had turned his back on her, just as he had turned his back on his father. No, he would not leave her as well. And so her turned he turned around, perhaps the only time he took back a choice he made.  
  
When Makalaurë and Nolofinwë finally reached the house, Laurelin was already shining, and Makalaurë worried that now it was too late. Surely, his brothers would of woken by now, and they would find their mother. But they wouldn't be able to help her. It was too late.  
  
Makalaurë quickly leaped off his horse, and ran to the house with sudden urgency, which surprised Nolofinwë. He burst through the door and was stopped in his tracks when he met the worried eyes of his brother Maitimo.  
  
They looked at each other for a moment, each comprehending what the other thought without having to speak. "I saw her." Maitimo said at last, speaking solemnly. "I managed to wake her after a while. I am not sure what happened, but I guess, Makalaurë, that she nearly left her hröa but fought to stay, to live. As to why, she hasn't told me anything yet but the memory of it seems to trouble her deeply."  
  
"And our brothers, did they see her?" Makalaurë asked, worried at what they may think, especially Ambarussa.  
  
"No." Maitimo answered much to his relief. "I sent them away as soon as I saw her. They will be returning soon though, so we must be swift."  
  
Maitimo then became aware of the fact that Nolofinwë was standing behind his brother, and he looked up at him inquisitively. "I went to get Nolofinwë's help. But if you have managed to wake her, it seems it will not be necessary." Makalaurë explained.  
  
"She is awake," Maitimo said "but she is not yet healed. It may be a long time before she is well again," He bowed his head and spoke quietly now "many years perhaps."  
  
Within moments Makalaurë, Maitimo and Nolofinwë were all standing before Nerdanel. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking bewilderedly down at the floor. After a moment she lifted her head and tears were streaming down her face. She saw the three of them standing before her, her sons and her brother in law, and she forced a faint smile. The two brothers only stood, looking from their mother to each other. It was Nolofinwë who finally broke the awkward silence.  
  
"Nerdanel," he said softly, walking towards her and sitting down beside her on the bed. "What happened? Will you not tell us, so that we might better understand your grief?"  
  
Nolofinwë looked at her a while but she did not answer. Her focus was instead on the doorway they had just entered. After a moment she began to shake, and Nolofinwë turned to see what it was that troubled her. He looked in the direction of her stare and saw someone standing tall and erect in the doorway, his dark hair framing his face that was marked with pain, with the same pain he saw in the eyes of his wife. Fëanáro.  
  
At once Nolofinwë, Maitimo and Makalaurë understood. Though it was hard for them to accept, they realized the truth at last. Without any of them realizing it, Nerdanel got up and walked towards Fëanáro. She lay her arms on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. And it hurt him, because he saw the pain there, pain that should never exist in the Blessed Realm, but she also saw the suffering in his eyes and her heart went out to him. But this time, it was not in love, nor was it because of need, but in understanding.  
  
Sensing that they should leave, Nolofinwë, Makalaurë and Maitimo quietly left the room. They did not now what would come to pass, but they knew it would be all right.  
  
At last Nerdanel turned away from the piercing stare of her husband, knowing that her message had been understood. She fell into Fëanáro's arms and cried. But her tears were not of pain, nor of sorrow but simply of sadness in what she must now reveal.  
  
"I am sorry Nerdanel." Fëanáro said softly to her. "Please understand me. You mustn't leave. I promise from now on that life will be as it always was, as it was meant to be. Please, Nerdanel."  
  
She broke away from him and looked up at him once more. "I do understand you" she said, "but I understand also that I cannot stay. Fëanáro, there is no meant to be for us. We are too different, you are too powerful. It will destroy me in the end, Fëanáro you must understand that. I do not want our sons to be left without a mother, as you were, and it will be difficult to explain that in order for them to have a mother, they and you must let me go. I can no longer stay here." Fëanáro looked at her with pain and confusion in his eyes. "Fëanáro, it is as hard for me as it is for you. I will remain your wife always, and it would please me if my sons and you come to visit me sometimes, but I say once more that I cannot stay here. You must let me go."  
  
So it was not he who left her, but she who left him and Fëanáro saw that he had no other choice but to grant her wish. Therefore, he gently stroked her face, and said only, "Farewell." And the next morning when he awoke, she was gone. 


End file.
